Running From Grace
by wakingonprospit
Summary: Following the death of his father, Sam Winchester returned to Sanford in an attempt to live a normal life. After a near death experience, he finds himself saved by a strange creature with golden wings, which vanishes as soon as it appears. Curious about the winged monster, Sam goes on one last journey in search of it. (A parallel story to Both Have Fallen From Grace)
1. Further Off Course

Hunting had never been easy. Even after having started at such an early age, there has never been a simple way to go about it. No two cases were ever the same, meaning that it was impossible to been entirely prepared for what lay in store. For example, simply knowing how to kill a goblin was only one step in actually finding and killing a goblin. The many diverse scenarios that come up while on a case is what makes being a hunter so difficult.

This being said, there are a number of things that make hunting significantly easier. Knowing where to find the monster in question, what it is capable of, and how to approach dealing with the creature are just a few things that make the hunt more manageable. However, none of these can be determined if one does not know what they are hunting.

Sam Winchester has no idea what he is hunting.

The months following Jessica's death had been some of the hardest in Sam's life. Coming home to find the woman he loved burning on the ceiling of their apartment had only been the one in a series of terrible events in Sam's life. The demon Azazel ending up killing so many important people to Sam; his dad, Ellen, Jo, Ash, and Bobby. All that he had left was Dean, who was living in Bobby's old house in South Dakota and doing who knows what. Sam had gone back to school for a while until recently, due to his encounter with the strange creature.

There were no eye witness accounts of similar sightings or books written on the monster that he was searching for; the one that he had barely caught a glimpse of almost two months ago and had been chasing after blindly since.

It did not help that anytime Sam would find the trail of a monster and began investigating, he would have to finish the job in that town whether it was the creature he was looking for or not. This considered, it is not a surprise that Sam has not found his mystery being yet, as he has been getting rid of these other monsters along the way.

Today's case was a Djinn, a powerful humanoid creature that causes realistic and captivating hallucinations to immobilize their prey as they feed off the human's blood. Sam arrived in a small town in Colorado early yesterday morning with only the lead that there had been a series of mysterious, unsolved deaths. Since then, he has managed to put the pieces together using several leads from the townspeople. He realized fairly quickly that the monster was a Djinn rather than the unknown winged creature that he had seen before. Even so, he needed to kill the Djinn before it fed from another innocent person.

The brunette pulls his tennis shoes on quickly, tying them before standing up and walking across the creaking wooden floor of the cheap hotel room. He pulls his green jacket on over his long sleeve plaid shirt, straightening the sleeves before moving toward the table in the corner of the room. He quickly picks up his silver knife, along with the lambs blood that he had acquired yesterday evening. There were not many ways to kill a Djinn, but a silver blade covered in lamb's blood was a fairly fast option.

He spares a brief glance at the DVD on the table labeled "CCTV 4." The disc was his only other lead to the creature that saved his life a couple of months ago. Despite the panic that had ensued after the incident, he had managed to get the gas station manager to give him a copy of the surveillance footage before the police arrived, not that it had done him any good so far in his search.

Returning back to the task at hand, he puts his supplies into his duffle bag, pulling it over his shoulder as he heads toward the door. He checks his phone as he walks outside to find two missed calls. One phone call from one of his classmates from Stanford, likely wondering why Sam had dropped off of the face of the Earth without explanation. This was the fifth time that this person had called him, but Sam had decided a couple of weeks ago that he will stop calling eventually and there is no need to even listen to the messages. The second call is from an unknown number. If it is important, whoever it is will call again.

He opens the door to his car and slides into the front seat, tossing his duffel bag into the passenger side. Sam has more important things to worry about.

* * *

So much for being an easy case, Sam thinks as he walks back into the hotel room and tosses his duffel bag to the floor and closing the door quickly behind him. He makes straight for the bed and flops onto his back, groaning at the soreness and exhaust in his body.

It was dangerous for hunters to take on monsters alone, especially ones as powerful as a Djinn. He had taken a risk going after even one monster in the first place, so needless to say he was more than a bit overwhelmed when he found himself ambushed by a second Djinn. It took some time, but he was eventually able to get the two Djinn separated so that he could take them out one at a time.

Sam shuts his eyes tightly in pain. He had sustained much worse injuries than this in the past, from bullet and knife wounds, bites, scratches, and broken bones. Sore muscles and a headache should not be this big of an issue. Perhaps it is the lack of sleep enhancing the pain further. He can sleep it off.

Moments later he hears his phone ringing from the duffel bag, and groans as he sits up. While it would be easy to ignore the phone call, it could easily be someone in town with further information on the two Djinn that he killed, and so he feels inclined to answer.

By the time his phone is in his hand, it is already on its last ring. He checks the caller ID, recognizing the unknown number from earlier that day and frowns to himself as he clicks the accept call button.

"Sam Winchester," he says carefully into the phone, frowning at the far wall of the hotel room as he leans against the chest of drawers across from the bed. The other end of the phone line is silent for a moment until he hears an oddly familiar voice on the other end of the line.

"Hey Sam, It's um- It's Garth."

The young man on the phone sounds as though he was a bit nervous to call.

"Garth?" Sam asks dumbly, obviously not familiar enough with the name to recognize it.

"You know, Fitzgerald," the voice laughs nervously for a second before continuing, "The fourth. We met after Bobby- ya know-" He trails off after that.

Sam frowns as the memory returns. Garth had shown up at Bobby's house about a week after he was killed by Azazel. The two Winchester brothers had been very confused as they watched the young, gangly man step out of his Ford Ranchero and approach them as they stood in Singer's Salvage Yard. Garth had explained that he had been trying to get in contact with Bobby about a case and had become worried after days of no response.

The young man had seemed incredibly upset upon hearing of Bobby's death, and had explained that he really looked up to the older hunter. They had not talked for long, but Sam had given Garth his number in case he ever needed anything.

"Oh, right, Garth," Sam says in a hurry, as if he had known all along, "What's up man? I haven't heard from you in a while." It was a bit of an understatement. Garth had not ever called Sam before now.

"Hey, so I heard you were hunting again," the older man says into the speaker, "I was wondering if you could help me out with a case."

Another detour from his main hunt. It was frustrating to say the least, especially knowing that Garth had not spoken to him since Bobby's death until now. "I'm kind of in the middle of another hunt, Garth," Sam lied, feeling a bit guilty, "There isn't anyone else you could call?"

The phone line goes quiet for a minute before he speaks up once again, "I mean, I'm kind of low on connections right now, you know what I mean?" he asks, "I took some time off of hunting after Bobby- And now I'm at it again and it's not like I can call him or- or- Ellen, or Jo, or Ash up and ask-"

Sam grimaces at the waver in Garth's voice that makes it seem as though he is about to break down. "Garth, man just-" Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. It is not as if one more hunt could take him any further off course than he is. "Where do you want to meet up?"

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading the first chapter of this fic! I'd love to know what you think!**_

 _ **I'm excited to keep writing this oh gosh I have big plans.**_

 _ **Updates will be pretty much every Sunday! :3**_

 _ **For anyone who does not know, this is a spin off of my fic "Both Have Fallen From Grace," which is a Destiel story that parallels this one. I'd very much appreciate it if you gave it a read, though this story is perfectly capable of standing on its own. Thanks!**_

 _ **Leave a review please!**_


	2. Golden Wings

Sam pulls into the nearly abandoned parking lot, wiping at his tired eyes as he turns the engine of his car off.

The college student had lost track of time while he was studying that evening, causing him to skip dinner and not leave the campus library until it was half past midnight. This had become a relatively normal occurrence for Sam, though it had never led to anything unusual before.

The store was not the cleanest of places. The cement of the parking lot was in need for repair, as well as several of the gas pumps outside. The building was painted in blue and white, but the paint was faded and peeling away in long, moldy ribbons. The inside of the gas station was hardly cleaner than the rest of it. The overhead lights were fluorescent and flickering, humming annoyingly in the quiet night air. It was a small place with a very limited selection of snacks, and so Sam paces up and down the aisles, browsing for something to eat.

As soon as he hears the bell on the door ring to signal someone else's arrival, he feels a wave of malevolence enter the small building with the stranger. The man wears a torn up black jacket with the hood pulled up over his head, obscuring his face by keeping his head tilted toward the ground.

The way he carries himself is far too familiar to Sam. It is a tactic that he and Dean once used in order to keep from being found by the police or seen by their enemies.

Sure enough, he follows the line of the man's shoulders up to a single security camera pointed toward the cash register and his stomach drops. Hazel eyes flicker throughout the rest of the store, scanning for any other security cameras but not finding any that would be able to see the man's face.

For a moment he wonders if he should leave. Should he exit or hide in the back behind an aisle of crackers without a care to the unsuspecting man who works the cash register?

Before Sam's decision can be made, the man is pulling a gun from his pocket and yelling at the man behind the checkout counter. He demands all of the money in the cash register, angrily slurring his words as if drunk.

The employee, a thin and frail teenager with greasy blonde hair and an expression resembling a deer in headlights, is left with no other choice but to open the cash register. Once accomplished, he begins taking money out of its place and dumping it onto the counter with shaking hands as the man in the jacket yells orders at him.

The kid could not have been more than nineteen, likely working this job to either pay rent or have some spending money while he was at college. Sam wonders if the blonde is close with his family, if he still lives with them or visits them often. All of these thoughts are cut off by the sound of the store alarm going off and the piercing sound of the gunshot, followed by the young man's pained yell in his dying breaths.

Sam rushes forward at the man, knowing very well that it is far too late to save the dying teenager, but feeling as though he has to do something to help. The thief should not be allowed to get away with this and since the young man had managed to sound the alarm, the police would be here soon. He stretches out his hands as he runs in an attempt to take the gun from the stranger's hands, only to have the man turn toward him and aim it at Sam.

"Stay back!" The man yells frantically, shaking his gun at Sam. His face is round and red with sweat beading across his forehead and dripping down the side of his face. The stubble on his jaw and chin is dark and unkempt, paired with the dark circles under his eyes. His dark eyes shift to peer past Sam's shoulder at the camera mounted on the wall that he had been making such an effort to face away from. Immediately, he knows he has made a mistake.

"Listen," Sam says carefully, raising his hands in the air a bit in front of him, knowing not to make any sudden movements. "You don't have to do this," he tells the thief, noticing the way the man shakes in place.

It was not a smart move for Sam. The shooter knows that he has nothing to lose now. His only option is to get away before the police come, and Sam was disrupting his plan.

"You don't want to do thi-"

The sound of the gunfire interrupts Sam before he can finish. His vision goes pure white and for a moment he thinks that he has died.

His ears are assaulted with a loud and shrill screeching, as a wave of warm air pushes him backward and causes him to stumble and fall to his knees. He shuts his eyes tightly and clamps his hands over his ears, doubling over in pain. The awful high pitched noise slowly becomes duller, leaving his ears ringing, but more bearable for him to remove his hands from his ears.

He is sure that the man with the gun will waste no time in attacking him. He looks up quickly to prepare himself for the attack, instead finding himself completely shocked by the sight before him.

A bright light burns at Sam's eyes. Regardless, he is unable to advert his gaze from the source of the light. At first glance he believes that the shooter had caught on fire somehow, but after a moment dismisses this as his vision clears. What he sees before him is a blinding light, formed in what resembles a humanoid figure. Suddenly, the room is filled with a golden flash as rays of light seem to extend from the creature's back, quickly forming what appear to be wings that take up a majority of the room. As the golden wings stretch throughout the room, Sam's ears begin to be pierced once again by the increasing intensity of the noise.

 _Close your eyes._

The words echo through his head in an unfamiliar voice. It is not quite a yell, but it possesses an authority that is impossible to ignore.

And so Sam's eyes close. He shuts them tight to avoid the blinding light and clamps his hands over his ears harder to block out the shrieking, curling in on himself for protection. He is not sure how much time has passed when the noise stops, but when it does, Sam feels a wave of safety wash over him.

He does not realize that he has been crying until he opens his eyes. His hands move from his still ringing ears to wipe the tears away before finally casting his gaze to the room before him.

All of the lights are out, shattered into small pieces of glass that now line the floor. The windows are broken and everything is still. He looks down at the floor before him and notices a small copper bullet among the shattered glass on the white tile. His fingers tremble as he picks it up and looks in front of him to the body of the shooter lying on the floor and facing away.

The brunette breathes heavily as he wills himself to stand. Through the pulsing noise in his ears, the only other sound is the crunching of broken glass under his shoes as he hesitantly makes his way to the fallen man.

He kneels in front of the man and carefully reaches out, rolling the man to face him only to reel back in shock.

The man's eyes are gone.

* * *

 ** _Thank you for reading!_**

 ** _Clarification that this is in fact an AU. Most of the situation will be cleared up in the next chapter._**

 ** _Please leave a review or if you have any questions down in the comments! :3_**


	3. Give it a Look

_**Thank you to StyxxsOmega, Souless666, Wolflover235, and Mac for leaving a review last chapter! I'm really glad you all are liking the story so far!**_

* * *

Sam rubs at his eyes tiredly as he walks into the diner, hearing the cheap doorbell ring as the glass door swings open. He had woken up at three in the morning to drive six hours from Colorado to Nebraska and has been regretting it ever since.

When Garth had suggested meeting up in a diner to discuss the case he was working, Sam had been hesitant. Now, with his stomach in pain from the lack of food, he is thankful that the suggestion was made. The tall hunter glances around the room, quickly noticing the man who he had come to meet.

Garth sits alone at a booth in the corner of the restaurant. His head is craned down to stare at a few documents on the table and he has a pair of tacky dollar store sunglasses covering his eyes. Regardless, it is evident to Sam that it is him.

As the hunter approaches the table, Garth looks up to meet his eyes, a bright grin coming over his face as he pulls off his sunglasses. "Sam!" the gangly man says happily as he stands up, stretching his arms out to the other man, "Good to see you, buddy!"

Sam tenses up slightly as he feels the other man's arms wrap around him in a long and awkward hug. He forces a quiet laugh, trying to play off his discomfort with a friendly pat to the other man's back. He notices a waitress across the diner casting a judgmental gaze over at the two men, causing Sam to pull away quickly. He sets his laptop bag in his side of the booth before sitting down beside it hurriedly.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" Garth says excitedly, scrambling back into his own seat. "Wait," he pauses as he glances back to the entrance of the diner, "Isn't Dean with you?"

Sam tenses up slightly at the question, setting his bag on the table to pull his laptop from it, avoiding Garth's eyes as he does so. "Dean doesn't hunt anymore."

"Wait, are you kidding? Weren't you guys kind of a package deal or something?"

"We were," Sam says bluntly, "He doesn't hunt anymore. He's up in South Dakota, living in Bobby's old house. I'm kind of on my own right now."

"Aw man, that must really suck," Garth says with a frown, "I mean, I'm sure if we called him he wouldn't have a problem driving down to help out. We're only a few hours away, so I mean-"

"Garth," Sam cuts off the other man with a warning voice, "Don't call him." At the shocked expression on the other's face, he feels the need to explain himself. "Dean doesn't know that I'm hunting again. He doesn't need to know, alright?"

The silence that hangs between them is interrupted by a middle aged waitress approaching their table. She smiles at the two of them politely and takes their orders before leaving them once again to their discussion.

"So," Garth begins again hesitantly, "Why are you hunting again, then?"

Sam sighs out quietly as he inserts the DVD labeled CCTV 4 into his computer. "Because of this," he says in resignation, turning his computer screen to face the other hunter. "I don't have a clue what it is or where it came from. Think you can give it a look?"

"Yeah, sure Sam." The other hunter goes quiet as he watches the computer screen. He sees Sam walk into the store, followed by the hooded man. A moment later, his eyes widen slightly at the golden light emanating from the humanoid creature on the screen. The extensions of its form, appearing to be wings, stretch out over the gas station before the screen disrupts into static.

The older hunter stares at the screen in shock for a moment before rewinding it a bit and rewatching the scene. "Sam," he says quietly, not bothering to lift his eyes from the footage, "I- I don't have a clue what this is." He finally averts his gaze from the laptop as Sam turns it to face himself again. "Wait. Sam, you're hunting that thing?"

Sam closes his laptop and lets his lips curl into a frown at the disbelief in Garth's voice. "Garth-" he starts, trying to think of a way to defend himself without sounding crazy, "I'm not going to fight it or anything, okay? I just want to find it... To figure out what it is."

"And what happens then?" Garth asks in concern, leaning in closer as he lowers his voice, "Sam, I've never seen anything like that. It could kill you. Maybe you should just forget about it?"

Sam could not even explain it to himself. The need to find the creature that had saved him is something that he would find ridiculous if anyone else had suggested it. Yet somehow, his entire life has begun to revolve around whether or not he could find this monster. He feels embarrassment at his situation as he stares down at the table, trying to think of a way to change the subject.

"Why don't you burn me a copy of that disc?" Garth asks, knowing that Sam would not give up on his case this easily, "I can ask around more later and see if anyone else has seen something like this, okay?"

"Thanks, Garth," Sam replies quietly, "I'll make a copy of it later tonight and get it back to you."

"No problem," Garth says with a smile, taking a sip of the coffee that had been set down before him.

"Hey, Garth?" Sam asks again, pausing for a moment before continuing, "Can you just- Just don't let Dean know that I've been hunting? He really doesn't need to worry about me."

The older hunter looks as though he is about to protest, but quickly deflates, frowning at the other man. "I won't tell him, Sam. But I think that you should. You can't keep something like this from him. He's your brother. Where does he even think you are now, anyway?"

Sam shakes his head slightly. "Stanford," he replies begrudgingly.

Garth's eyes widen once again before narrowing at Sam in disbelief. "You told him you went back to college and instead you're on a hunt?"

The taller man looks away, seeming as though he knows that he should feel ashamed of this lie. "I did go back to college for a while," he explains, "But, it just didn't feel right. I can't just pretend everything is normal, and after this thing came out of nowhere-..."

"Sam? This thing is dangerous. I mean, not that most things we hunt aren't but this is insane and there's no telling what it can do."

"I know, but-"

"Besides," Garth continues, cutting off the younger hunter, "If you really told Dean you were done hunting, there must have been a reason. It's dangerous and I'm sure you've gotten a lifetime's worth of that just in the time you spent chasing down Azazel."

"What would you suggest then?" Sam asks the other skeptically, looking down at his hands.

Garth stays quiet for a moment before sighing. "Did I tell you that I use to be a dentist before hunting?" At the lack of a response from the other, he continues, "Yep, went to college for eight years for it. Not that I really need any of that information for what I'm doing now. But it was an experience, you know? And it's nice to have something normal to look back on. I just think maybe you should give college another try. I think it'd be good for you, and if it doesn't work out after that, then at least you can say you tried."

"I did try," Sam says stubbornly, knowing very well what the other man meant and choosing to ignore it. The sound of Garth's phone going off interrupts Sam before he can continue his defense and he watches at the other hunter gets up from the table and walks away to accept the call.

Less than a minute later Garth is already heading back.

"Hey, can we get that breakfast to go?" he calls to the older woman who had waited their table a few minutes ago. She nods quickly as Garth pulls out some money from his wallet and sets it on the table before looking back to Sam.

"There's been another death. I'll explain the case when we get there."

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading another chapter!**_

 _ **Exciting stuff is in store!**_

 _ **Please leave me a review if you like this?**_


	4. A Theory

_**Thank you to Wolflover235 and StyxxsOmega for reviewing on the last chapter**_

* * *

"Glad you boys came in," the officer says to them, hands going into the pockets of his jacket, "Don't really see what this has to do with our other cases though. They're all completely different MO's."

"Well, we don't want to leave any stones unturned," Gath responds with a smile, "We thought we might as well come scope it out while we're in town."

"Well, you're free to go give it a look. We've got someone from the Coroner's Office on the way to pick up the body, so that gives you two about thirty minutes."

"Thank you," Sam says politely, before turning with his friend to head into the next room. "A cereal factory, really?" he whispers to Garth. "What are we dealing with here? You never told me what the first death was either." Sam frowns at the shorter man as they enter the room with the heavily industrialized Fruit Loop production line.

"Oh?" Garth says as he glances around the room, gazing past the large machines and conveyor belts toward an area that is blocked off with yellow police tape. "Okay so the first death was the owner of this toy store, right? And I mean, it didn't seem to be our kind of unusual when they found the body, since he was beat to death," he says as they approach the restricted area, "but then I pulled the security footage. He was attacked by a bunch of the dolls. It was weird, like some Night of the Living Dummy stuff, except with American Girl dolls."

Sam cannot help but let out a quiet laugh at the image in his head, but quickly shakes it off as the steps underneath the yellow tape, followed quickly by the other hunter.

"And so I thought it was may be an evil spirit in the store, or the dolls were possessed, or something. But then the second incident happened. This one was really weird. Apparently some banker had all of the money in his personal account replaced with monopoly money. The security cameras didn't show anyone entering the vault either, and since it was technically theft, it got reported and I managed to look into it. ."

At this, Sam stops and turns to face Garth. "Are you kidding me?" he asks incredulously, "What does this have to do with the murders?"

"I have a theory okay?"

Sam sighs quietly as he steps closer to the vat of colorful cereal, staring down into the container. "And what's that?" he asks.

Inside amidst the vibrant colors of ringed cereal lays a man, seemingly drowned in the sugary breakfast food. It fills his gaping mouth, overflowing as though it had been shoved down his throat to suffocate him.

"Well I figure that-"

"Garth," Sam cuts off his friend with a nudge as one of the other policemen walk toward them.

"You two ever seen anything like this?" the officer asks as he approaches them.

Garth turns toward the policeman as he speaks, glancing back to Sam. "Not exactly, but we've seen plenty weirder... Do you have any security footage from last night?"

The policeman shakes his head slightly, "All of our systems bugged out, like some kind of static, maybe a power surge or something."

Sam glances back at the dead man in the cereal, noticing quickly that there are other foreign objects among the food.

"What are these scraps of paper?" Sam asks as he reaches down to pull a red wrapper from the mix.

"Candy bar wrappers," the officer replies, "We were pullin' a bunch of them out earlier. There had to be at least fifty of them." He reaches into the pocket of his jacket as he pulls out a plastic bag. "Found this in there too," he adds, handing the baggie to Sam, "Whoever did this must've left it for us."

The faux FBI agent stares down at the piece of paper that is in the baggie, reading the writing on it.

 _Catch me if you can ;) XOXO_

"We need that," Garth blurts out as he looks at the paper. Then he turns to grab a few candy bar wrappers from the basin of cereal hurriedly.

"Pardon me? You boys can't take it. It's evidence. It belongs to the county sheriff's department-"

"Would you like to call our director and explain that to him?" Garth cuts off the older man quickly as he takes the bag from Sam and slides the candy bar wrappers into it.

"Well no-"'

"Then we'll get it back to you real soon. Come on agent." The lanky man nudges Sam as he makes his way toward the exit hurriedly, followed quickly by Sam.

"Garth," the younger hunter hisses quietly as they make out of the room, "What are you doing?"

"All of the candy! And the teasing! It's obvious Sam! My theory was right!" A wide smile is plastered onto Garth's face as he heads out of the building.

"Slow down," Sam urges, "What are you talking about?"

"I know what we're hunting."

* * *

"A trickster?" Sam scoffs quietly, "I've never heard of them." He frowns at the other man as he watches Garth crush up the summoning ingredients into a mortar.

"Really?" Garth asks in disbelief, looking up from his work. "Well, they're sort of like demigods," Garth explains, "I read about them in one of Bobby's old books once. They have the ability to warp space and time, making illusions and stuff. They use their power to pull pranks on people, sometimes killing them."

Sam stares down at the stake in his hands, dipping it in the first victim's blood which they had retrieved from the morgue after leaving the crime scene. "And you're sure that's what this thing is?"

"Yep!" Garth exclaims without hesitation, "I mean, I wasn't at first, but the candy bars kind of gave it away. Tricksters really like sweets." He smiles as he dumps the contents of the mortar into the fire burning in a cauldron on the table, muttering a few words in Latin. "Now we just need something that it's touched," he says, picking up a handful of candy bar wrappers along with the note from the crime scene. "Be ready with the stake, okay? It could show up as soon as I drop these in." With a brief nod of approval, Garth is letting the paper fall from his hands and into the fire. "Careful," he mutters, "These things are really strong."

The taller man frowns at the fire before glancing around the room. His hand tightens on the wooden stake, feeling splinters from it pressing into his palm. The fire flickers out suddenly, leaving both of the hunters in silence.

"I don't think," Garth muses after a moment, "That's suppose to happen."

After a moment more of silence, a quiet hissing begins to fill the air. A bright red smoke seethes from the cauldron, spreading around the room and filling the air.

"Garth," Sam rasps out quietly, trying to hold his breath through the smoke. His eyes widen as he watches the other hunter pass out and fall to the ground. "Garth!' He yells, before shutting his mouth quickly to avoid breathing in the smoke. He grabs the smaller man by the shirt, trying to tug him toward the exit door only to find that it will not open.

His hands continue to scramble at the door handle until his vision goes black.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading again! and we're finally getting into the case. :D**_

 _ **Please leave me a comment if you are enjoying this story. I haven't really been getting a lot of feedback and it's very disheartening.**_

 _ **What would you like to see in future chapters?**_


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